Scent

Cypress, a little black pepper, a thread of vetiver underneath. It smells like the cemetery hill above Gordes in August — hot, green, dry, completely still. I blend it in 50ml batches with grain alcohol and essential oils from a distiller in Forcalquier.

Damp grass at six in the morning, before the sun hits the orchard. Wet stone, a little geranium, a whisper of something green and bitter. I pour these in small batches in old yogurt jars I've been collecting since I opened.